Of Detectives and Mad Men
by xXFanGirl23Xx
Summary: It was late, and Jonathon and his companion Dr. Einstein were in London once more. They had fled from Brooklyn and were now unstoppable once more. Or at least, until they end up meeting Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Immediately, Sherlock and Jonathon hit it off, even though Sherlock knows about Jonathon's secrets, but will the doctors approve?


**Title: Of Detectives, Doctors and Mad Men**

**Crossover: Arsenic and Old Lace/Sherlock**

**Setting: London, England, present day**

**Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Jonathon Brewster, Dr. Herman Einstein**

**Summary: **

It was late, and Jonathon and his companion Dr. Einstein were in London once more. They had fled from Brooklyn and were now unstoppable once more. Or at least, until they end up meeting Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Immediately, Sherlock and Jonathon hit it off, even though Sherlock knows about Jonathon's secrets, but will the doctors approve?

* * *

**Chapter One: The Great Escape and the Great Detective**

"Jonny, come on, one drink; just the one. Please Jonny?" Dr. Einstein insisted. He had been pestering Jonathon Brewster for over an hour now about going to the pub. Jonathon groaned, letting his hand slide down his new face. Einstein was smart enough to shut up for a moment and let Jonathon calm down.

Killing had been an easy task, but now that they were finally off the hook, Einstein had insisted they stop for a while. To his surprise, Jonathon agreed and the two moved into a flat in the West End. They had laid low for a few good months, but now Jonathon was getting impatient again. His mind was full of plots to kill, but most didn't get to be seen played out on his victims.

Jonathon Brewster was a mad man, and his companion and friend, if Jonathon had those, Dr. Herman Einstein knew that for a fact. No one could compare to the way Jonathon could easily kill without feeling anything at all; in fact, the man wouldn't even flinch at the horrific scenes he himself created. Numerous times Jonathon had been put away, but he escaped because that great mad mind of his never rested. And that was the greatest advantage ever for them.

"Alright, I've been cooped up like a bird for too long. Let's go to this pub you've been speaking about for hours on end, Dr. Einstein." Jonathon said, moving in his usual slow pace from the window to the door. Dr. Einstein nodded and followed his friend. It had been forever since either of them had been to a pub, let alone one in London. It only made sense that the discreet pub was in the back alleys, away from most onlookers and police officers.

Jonathon relaxed slightly in the atmosphere of the pub, seeing as no one truly cared who he was. His new face was handsomer than the others had been, but that wasn't what Jonathon had been interested in. It was the man with a blue scarf and big coat and a head full of dark brunette curls. Beside the brunette sat a shorter, stockier man with short blonde hair with a disposition that had military written all over.

A chill ran up Jonathon's spine and he fought the impulse to yank Einstein back through the door and go to another pub as he sat at the bar beside the brunette. Einstein had to settle for sitting on the other side of the blonde man, but there was no sense in trying to socialize with Jonathon. He wasn't one for socializing much anyhow.

Einstein turned to the blonde man sitting beside him. "Hello." He said; his accent was still strong on his tongue as he spoke. The blonde turned to him, smiling lightly and nodded in greeting before turning back to the bartender, who was telling a story. Einstein hadn't listened much, but he could see the usually unsociable Jonathon chatting with the brunette next to him.

"Hello." The brunette said as Jonathon sat down beside him. Jonathon nodded, resting his elbow on the bar and propped his head up on it, looking bored. The brunette continued. "I'm Sherlock Holmes. I see you've just moved back into the area, from Brooklyn by the looks of your clothes."

Jonathon's head snapped up and stared at Sherlock. Sherlock had extended a hand to him. Jonathon shook it as a glass of brandy was set in front of him, courtesy of Sherlock Holmes. Jonathon had heard the name before, but couldn't place it anywhere.

"Jonathon Brewster." He said, his voice slightly grim. Sherlock's face looked as bored as Jonathon felt, but the grayish eyes scanned his body up and down once. It wasn't long before the brandy loosened the lips of the mad man a bit and the two fell into a deep conversation over the way the criminals worked. It was then that Jonathon realized that this was the great detective everyone talked about. Sherlock talked about past cases he had worked on and criticized the serial killers who gotten sloppy lately.

Jonathon would have mulled over more plans in his mind, but his attention was fully on Sherlock. He took in the details of each story into account, matching up certain details with flaws in his own plans, quickly changing them to be less obvious. Sherlock continued on and on late into the night. In fact, it was almost midnight by time the two had downed four glasses of brandy each and the subject still hadn't exhausted.

It was the blonde man who interrupted. "Sherlock, we should get going. Mrs. Hudson will be calling your brother if you don't come back soon." He said impatiently. Jonathon glared at him, but Sherlock sighed lightly.

"Alright John, as you wish." Sherlock said reluctantly standing, but gave Jonathon a quick smile. "Here's my card. It has my number on it. Text me sometime." He said before John pulled him away from the bar and out of the pub. Einstein moved closer.

"I have an idea… a little game for the detective." Jonathon said with a devilish smirk. "But first, I need to contact a certain Jim Moriarty. I heard he's quite the expert when it comes to criminals… but even experts need lessons." Quickly, he pulled Einstein from the bar and out of the pub completely. They grabbed a taxi, but instead of heading home, Jonathon had other plans.

"Where to?" Asked the cabby as they got in.

"Tower Bridge, and step on it." Jonathon demanded as he searched the internet for the number that would lead him to Jim Moriarty, who was to be his thirteenth victim. Jonathon smirked to himself and looked out the window. _Oh Sherlock will have fun with this one._


End file.
